THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE   PLAYMATE   HOURS 


THE 

PLAYMATE    HOURS 


BY 


MARY  THACHER  HIGGINSON 


BOSTON    AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND    COMPANY 

(£fje  Rilicrsibr  press,  Cambridge 
1904 


COPYRIGHT   1904   BY   MARY  THACHKR   IIIGGINSON 

Published  October  11)04 


PS 

/**.</ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  PLAYMATE  HOURS 3 

TWILIGHT 4 

THE  ANCHORED  DORIES 5 

BETWEEN  THE  LIGHTS 6 

GHOST  FLOWERS     . 7 

REPRIEVE 8 

CHANGELINGS          .        .        .        \      •        •        • .      •  9 

"BEHOLD  I  SHEW  You  A  MYSTERY"                     '.  10 

INLAND    n 

VIRGIN'S  BOWER        . 12 

TONGUE-TIED 13 

COULEUR  DE  ROSE 14 

EXILES 15 

INHERITANCE 17 

A  FEATHER  DROPPED 18 

GLIMPSEWOOD 19 

THE  HERMIT  THRUSH 20 

THE  WAY  OUT   ........  21 

TREASURE  IN  HEAVEN 22 

BUILDING 23 

HOUSED           ,                       25 

THE  TEST    .  26 


LIBRARY 


EXPECTANT 27 

STRICKEN 29 

HE  GIVETH  SNOW 30 

POMPEII 31 

COBWEBS 32 

GIFTS 34 

THE  WHITE  DUNE 35 

TRANSFORMATION 36 

CONQUERED 37 

BETRAYAL 38 

ABSENT 39 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  JACKS 40 

BLOSSOMING 42 

IN  A  ROSE  GARDEN 43 

To  A  POET  ON  HIS  SEVENTIETH  BIRTHDAY       .       .  45 

WAIFS 46 

THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  HILLS 47 

TAKING  LEAVE 48 

IN  THE  DARK 50 


THE   PLAYMATE   HOURS 


THE   PLAYMATE   HOURS 

DAWN  lingers  silent  in  the  shade  of  night, 

Till  on  the  gloaming  Baby's  laughter  rings. 
Then  smiling  Day  awakes,  and  open  flings 
Her  golden  doors,  to  speed  the  shining  flight 

Of  restless  hours,  gay  children  of  the  light. 
Each  eager  playfellow  to  Baby  brings 
Some  separate  gift,  —  a  flitting  bird  that  sings 
With  her ;  a  waving  branch  of  berries  bright ; 

A  heap  of  rustling  leaves ;  each  trifle  cheers 
This  joyous  little  life  but  just  begun. 
No  weary  hour  to  her  brings  sighs  or  tears ; 

And  when  the  shadows  warn  the  loitering  sun, 

With  blossoms   in  her  hands,   untouched  by 

fears, 
She  softly  falls  asleep,  and  day  is  done. 


TWILIGHT 

A  WEARY  man  sat  lost  in  thought ; 
The  firelight  sank  beneath  his  look  ; 
And  shadows,  by  his  fancy  wrought, 
Soon  lurked  in  every  nook. 

A  birdlike  voice  rang  through  the  hall ; 
Two  little  feet  danced  down  the  stair ; 
The  fire  leaped  up  at  that  blithe  call, 
And  gleamed  on  shining  hair. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  the  gay  song  was ; 
"  So  glad,"  it  echoed  to  and  fro ; 
"  I  don't  know  why,  unless  because 
You  are  papa,  you  know  !  " 

Care  fled  before  that  sweet  belief ; 
The  shadows  melted  quite  away , 
The  weary  man  forgot  his  grief, 
Forgot  his  hair  was  gray. 


THE  ANCHORED   DORIES 

As  lilies,  floating  side  by  side, 
Lie  on  the  water's  breast, 

So  on  this  ever  changing  tide 
The  tranquil  dories  rest. 

A  slender  cord  the  only  stay 

For  blossom  or  for  boat, 
Yet  with  the  lily's  poise  and  sway 

These  graceful  shallops  float. 

The  bay  becomes  a  golden  floor 
Beneath  the  sunset's  gleam  ; 

Rose-petals,  wafted  from  the  shore, 
The  tinted  dories  seem. 

Before  the  gale  brave  vessels  flee, 
And  shun  the  tempest's  shock ; 

But  dauntless  in  the  plunging  sea 
These  tiny  coasters  rock. 

O  heart  of  mine,  so  buoyant  now, 
Hopes  sink,  with  none  to  save ; 

But  in  life's  storms,  remember  how 
The  dories  ride  the  wave ! 

5 


BETWEEN  THE  LIGHTS 

ALL,  through  the  silent  night, 

When  tired  men  are  sleeping, 

And  children  dream, 

And  stars  our  hopes  are  keeping, 

The  wayside  lamp  is  bright, 

And  throws  its  gleam 

On  homes  of  joy  and  weeping. 

Slowly  the  radiant  day 
Left  all  the  world  repining 
(Thus  droops  the  rose 
When  summer  is  declining). 
Ere  dawn  the  wayside  ray 
More  swiftly  goes  — 
Vanished  the  friendly  shining ! 

'T  is  that  the  lonely  night 
Its  brief  farewell  is  taking. 
The  glimmer  dies 
Because  the  earth  is  waking. 
Darkness  prepares  for  flight, 
Though  timid  eyes 
See  not  that  morn  is  breaking. 
6 


GHOST-FLOWERS 

(MoHotropa  uniflord) 

IN  shining  groups,  each  stem  a  pearly  ray, 

Weird  flecks  of  light  within  the  shadowed  wood, 
They  dwell  aloof,  a  spotless  sisterhood. 
No  Angelus,  except  the  wild  bird's  lay, 

Awakes  these  forest  nuns ;  yet  night  and  day 
Their  heads  are  bent,  as  if  in  prayerful  mood. 
A  touch  will  mar  their  snow,  and  tempests  rude 
Defile ;  but  in  the  mist  fresh  blossoms  stray 

From  spirit-gardens  just  beyond  our  ken. 

Each  year  we  seek  their  virgin  haunts,  to  look 
Upon  new  loveliness,  and  watch  again 

Their  shy  devotions  near  the  singing  brook ; 
Then,  mingling  in  the  dizzy  stir  of  men, 
Forget  the  vows  made  in  that  cloistered  nook. 


REPRIEVE 

TEMPESTS  and  clouds  made  dark  the  day 

For  fitful  Madge  and  me ; 
At  length  repentance  had  its  way, 

And  brought  her  to  my  knee. 

The  softened  eyes  revealed  a  tear, 

But  hope  is  brave  at  ten. 
"  Will  you  forgive  me,  mother  dear? 
Can  I  begin  again  ?  " 

44  Oh,  child,"  I  said  with  weary  sigh, 

"  Too  often  you  begin." 
"  Yes,  mother ;  "  and  the  calm  reply 

Showed  victory  within. 

In  this  remorseful  heart  sank  deep 
My  lambkin's  pleading  glance : 

What  if  the  Shepherd  of  4the  sheep 
Denied  me  one  more  chance? 


CHANGELINGS 

THE  ghosts  of  flowers  went  sailing 

Through  the  dreamy  autumn  air  — 
The  gossamer  wings  of  the  milkweed  brown, 
And  the  sheeny  silk  of  the  thistle-down, 

But  there  was  no  bewailing, 

And  never  a  hint  of  despair. 

From  the  mountain-ash  was  swinging 

A  gray  deserted  nest ; 
Scarlet  berries  where  eggs  had  been ; 
Softly  the  flower-wraiths  floated  in. 

And  the  brook  and  breeze  were  singing 

When  the  sun  sank  down  in  the  west. 


"BEHOLD,   I   SHEW  YOU  A 
MYSTERY" 

(H.  E.  S.  AND  A.  H.) 

Two  ways  were  theirs  to  reach  the  unknown  shore : 
One  man  was  held  in  the  fierce  grasp  of  pain, 
And  watched  the  springs  of  being  slowly  wane ; 
The  other  no  such  bitter  trial  bore, 

But  dropping  'mid  his  fellows,  breathed  no  more. 
Men  grieved,  and  listened  for  some  sad  refrain 
From  homes  bereft ;  and  trembling  for  the  twain 
Whose  lingering  lives  were  crushed,  I  sought  their 
door. 

They  spoke  in  turn :  "It  always  was  his  prayer 
To  go  out  like  a  flash :  this  chides  regret." 
"  He  wished  I  should  a  garb  of  sunshine  wear." 

Both  women  smiled  ;  only  my  eyes  were  wet. 
O  Life  and  Death,  what  mysteries  ye  share  I 
Greatest  of  all,  the  love  that  ye  beget ! 


10 


INLAND 

MY  home  is  far  above  the  ocean  sands,  — 

Too  far  to  watch  the  surges  roll  and  break ; 
But  every  day  across  those  meadow-lands 
Fly  sea-gulls  toward  the  lake. 

No  sound  of  dashing  waves  the  silence  brings ; 

No  foam,  like  drifting  snow,  delights  the  eye ; 
Instead,  a  sudden  cloud  of  rushing  wings 
Gleams  white  against  the  sky. 

The  sight  of  graceful  schooners  sailing  fast, 
Straight  for  their  harbor,  is  denied  to  me ; 
But  I  can  count  the  fair  gulls  soaring  past, 
They  are  my  ships  and  sea. 


ii 


VIRGIN'S   BOWER 

As  still  as  a  cathedral  close, 

And  guarded  by  a  wall  of  green, 

A  garden  full  of  lilies  grows 

Which  no  man's  eye  hath  ever  seen. 

Only  the  fragrance,  like  a  prayer, 

Escapes  to  bless  the  outer  air. 

Sometime  the  hidden  must  be  known : 
A  stranger's  step  will  scale  the  wall, 

And  claim  the  blossoms  for  his  own, 
And  glean  the  petals  as  they  fall. 

Ah !  let  him  come  with  careful  tread, 

With  reverent  hands,  uncovered  head ! 

But  should  a  reckless  soul  find  room 
Within  this  kingdom  of  delight, 

And  trample  down  the  lilies'  bloom, 
And  put  the  singing  birds  to  flight, 

Before  such  havoc  meet  my  eye, 

Be  kind,  O  God  !  and  let  me  die. 


12 


TONGUE-TIED 

THE  despot,  Winter,  lays  his  magic  hand 
Upon  the  singing  brooks,  and  they  are  still. 
Thus  my  glad  life  is  fettered  by  the  chill 
Of  silence,  potent  in  this  Northern  land ; 

And  he  who  knows  me  best  can  understand. 

When  springtime  melts  the  snow,  streams  run  at 

will, 

So  love  may  break  reserve,  words  rush  and  thrill, 
But  habit  soon  resumes  its  stern  command. 

"  Canst  bear  with  me  ? "  I  plead.    How  sad  his  tone ! 
"  The  current  flows,  the  ice  will  yet  succumb, 
The  mountain's   heart   is  warmed   by  flames  un 
known, 

Though  the  volcano's  lips  be  cold  and  numb." 
He  waits.    The  fires  burn  red  for  him  alone. 
Yet  when  he  craves  a  sign,  lo  !  I  am  dumb. 


COULEUR  DE   ROSE 

Our  there  the  salt  foam  was  seething  and  flying, 
The  rose  on  the  downs  was  watching  and  sighing ; 

Thought  the  rose, 
"If  I  could  shed 
My  fragrance  over  the  sea, 

Nobody  knows  — 

He  might  be  led 
To  silence  his  roar  and  think  of  me." 

Out  there  the  hushed  sea  was  glistening  and  glowing, 
The  rose  on  the  downs  was  blushing  and  blowing ; 

Thought  the  rose, 
««  He  felt  the  charm ; 
The  waves  are  pink  on  the  sea  ! 

At  the  day's  close 

All 's  safe  from  harm, 
And  he  wears  my  color  for  love  of  me." 


»4 


EXILES 

(SiLVERTON,  COLORADO.) 

VAST  walls  of  rock  on  either  side 

Surround  our  eagle-nest. 
Beyond,  the  world  is  fair  and  wide ; 

But  on  that  mountain  crest 
The  red  stone  glimmers  through  the  snow, 
The  spruce  grows  green  on  slopes  below ; 
The  aspen  waves  its  leaves  of  gold, 
And  we  forget  that  life  of  old. 

Sometimes  through  boughs  of  stately  elms 
The  orioles  flash  in  dreams ; 

But  ere  the  thought  our  peace  o'erwhelms, 
A  nobler  vision  gleams 

From  lofty  peaks,  where  rays  of  light  . 

Dart  swiftly  on  from  height  to  height, 

Till  far  above  us  smiles  the  morn. 

Night  lingers  here,  but  day  is  born ! 

When  silence  seems  too  great  to  bear 
Beneath  those  awful  domes, 

A  silvery  tinkle  fills  the  air,  — 

Down  come  the  mountain  gnomes ! 
15 


We  watch  the  little  burros  creep 
Along  the  wild  and  slippery  steep, 
Laden  with  wealth  of  shining  ore ; 
And  loneliness  is  ours  no  more. 

For  clouds  that  other  skies  can  show 

The  undimmed  blue  we  see  ; 
And  back  and  forth  the  miners  go, 
With  hearts  as  brave  and  free 
As  Alpine  flowers  beneath  their  feet, 
Or  this  crisp  air  so  fresh  and  sweet. 
Dear  Eastern  homes  with  memories  rife, 
Our  hearts  are  yours,  but  here  is  life  I 


16 


INHERITANCE 

WE  wondered  why  he  always  turned  aside 

When  mirth  and  gladness  filled  the  brimming  days. 

Who  else  so  fit  as  he  for  pleasure's  ways? 

Men  thought  him  frozen  by  a  selfish  pride ; 
But  that  his  voice  was  music  none  denied, 

Or  that  his  smile  was  like  the  sun's  warm  rays. 

One  day  upon  the  sands  he  spoke  in  praise 

Of  swimmers  who  were  buffeting  the  tide  : 
"  The  swelling  waves  of  life  they  dare  to  meet. 

I  may  not  plunge  where  others  safely  go. 

Unbidden  longings  in  my  pulses  beat." 
O  blind  and  thoughtless  world !  you  little  know 

That  ever  round  this  hero's  steadfast  feet 

Surges  and  tugs  the  dreaded  undertow. 


A  FEATHER  DROPPED 

A  LITTLE  cottage  on  the  shaded  way ; 

Houstonias  in  the  grass  ; 

And  smiles  for  all  who  pass 
From  one  whose  heart  is  lavish  as  the  day. 

And  when  that  door  was  closed  to  life  and  light, 

How  could  the  blossoms  know? 

The  poppy  shed  its  glow ; 
The  tall  narcissus  kept  its  virgin  white. 

The  scarlet  clusters  of  the  bittersweet 

Hung  tempting  as  of  yore  ; 

But  she  was  there  no  more 
To  watch  the  bluebirds  claim  their  autumn  treat. 

They  may  have  missed  her  care  and  tender  thought 

For  all,  whate'er  betide ; 

For  through  the  chimney  wide 
One  shy  yet  daring  bird  an  entrance  sought. 

A  feather  here  and  there  betrayed  the  quest 

Within  the  silent  room, 

As  if  defying  gloom ; 

Though  birds  had  flown  and  she  was  with  the  Blest. 

18 


GLIMPSEWOOD 

THE  water  glimmering  through  the  leaves, 

One  soft  blue  peak  above,  — 
The  murmuring  quiet  summer  weaves,  — 

This  is  thy  home,  dear  love ! 

The  pewee's  call  awakes  the  day, 

And  in  the  twilight  dim 
The  hermit-thrush's  thrilling  lay 

Shall  be  thine  evening  hymn. 

The  forest  birches  wave  and  gleam 
Through  boughs  of  feathery  pine. 

Ah,  no,  dear  love  !  't  is  not  a  dream ; 
This  fairy  home  is  thine. 


THE   HERMIT   THRUSH 

BEHIND  this  leafy  screen 

Which  keeps  the  world  away, 

A  forest  bird  unseen 
To  music  sets  our  day. 

Sometimes  his  voice  is  mute ; 

He  ponders  things  divine ; 
Then  sounds  his  magic  flute, 

And  makes  the  woods  a  shrine. 

He  chants  of  life  above 

This  realm  that  mortals  know ; 
He  dreams  of  purer  love 

Than  human  souls  bestow. 

O  priest  and  choir  in  one ! 

Still  lend  to  earth  thy  wings, 
And  show  beneath  the  sun 

One  heart  that  soars  and  sings. 


20 


THE  WAY  OUT 

I  SEE  the  winding  path  that  leads  away 

From  this  fair  sheltered  home  among  the  trees, 
Where  pines  are  stirred  to  music  by  the  breeze, 
And  on  gray  rocks  the  leafy  shadows  play. 

But  in  this  realm  serene  I  fain  would  stay, 
Like  an  imprisoned  man  who  on  his  knees 
Has  sued  for  freedom  dear,  yet,  when  he  sees 
The  open  door,  shrinks  from  the  light  of  day. 

His  anguish  now  is  healed ;  yet  wherefore  hie 
To  a  forgetful  world,  oppressed  by  wrong? 
Could  but  this  atmosphere  around  me  lie, 

Still  breathing  peace  amid  the  bustling  throng ; 
Could  but  this  trembling  voice,  however  shy, 
Dispel  one  discord  with  the  forest  song ! 


21 


TREASURE   IN   HEAVEN 

IF  messengers  we  fear 

Should  hither  come  to-day, 

And  beckon  me  away 
From  all  that  earth  holds  dear ; 

And  I  should  trembling  turn 
And  cling  to  glowing  life, 
Yet  in  the  fiercest  strife 

Feel  heart  and  reason  burn ; 

Then  look  into  love's  face, 

And  see  with  anguish  wild 
Our  rosy  little  child 

With  all  her  baby  grace, 

And  stretch  my  feeble  hand 

To  keep  the  darling  near,  — 
My  fainting  soul  would  hear 

A  voice  from  spirit-land. 

That  voice  would  set  me  free, 

With  joy  my  pulses  thrill : 
"  Mamma,  I  need  you  still ! 
Have  you  forgotten  me  ?  " 

22 


BUILDING 

HE 

Now  say,  love,  where  the  nest  shall  be 
Upon  the  cliffs  that  front  the  sea, 

Where  the  white  foam  flies, 

And  the  white  gull  cries, 
And  distant  waters  sink  and  rise 
Till  they  are  lost  in  bluer  skies  ? 

Or  shall  it  be  among  the  hills, 
Beside  the  shaded  forest  rills, 

Where  the  mosses  cling, 

And  the  thrushes  sing, 
And  dragon-flies  on  gauzy  wing 
Forever  haunt  the  mountain  spring? 

SHE 

I  cannot  choose  when  days  are  bright, 
The  test  must  be  the  storm  and  night ; 
When  the  raindrops  fall, 
And  the  loud  winds  call, 
And  mists  roll  in  —  a  gloomy  wall  — 
To  hide  both  sea  and  land  from  all. 
23 


Upon  the  shore,  where  fog-bells  wail, 
One  dreams  of  wrecks  amid  the  gale ; 

But  the  birches  shine, 

And  the  leaflets  fine 

Are  strung  with  pearls  on  the  rain-swept  pine 
In  the  woodland  home  that  shall  be  mine. 


24 


HOUSED 

"  GOOD- BY,  mamma,"  and  forth  she  flies, 

Fit  comrade  for  the  radiant  day. 
A  host  of  groundless  fears  arise ; 
Those  steps  may  go  astray. 

O  mother  robin,  lend  me  wings 

To  follow  where  my  birdling  goes ; 

Like  thine,  she  darts  away  and  sings 
Unconscious  of  her  foes. 

"  Good-night,  mamma,"  the  same  sweet  voice, 

Still  eager  for  to-morrow's  sun  ; 
While  I  so  earnestly  rejoice 
The  anxious  day  is  done. 

My  little  warbling  bird  is  still ; 

And  yet  I  love  this  hour  the  best ; 
For  there  she  is,  secure  from  ill, 

Within  her  sheltered  nest. 


25 


THE  TEST 

"THY  love,"  he  cried,  "  is  like  a  fragrant  flower 
Whose  stainless  beauty  cannot  fade  or  die." 
"  And  thine,"  she  blushing  said,  "  is  like  some  high, 
Still  tide  that  knows  no  ebb  to  check  its  power." 

But  when  life's  changes  brought  a  darkened  hour, 
In  secret  each  heart  feared  love's  doom  was  nigh. 
"The  tide  goes  out ;  storms  kill  the  blossom  shy." 
Then    clasping    hands,   they  turned   to   meet   the 
shower ; 

Courage  and  hope  were  nursed  for  many  a  day. 
At  length  the  mists  rolled  off,  their  dream  was  true ! 
Beneath  no  restless  tide  the  anchor  lay 

That  held  her  safe ;  his  deathless  flower  but  grew 
More  fair ;  love's  test  withstood,  along  their  way 
Sang  blithe  content  'neath  clouds  or  skies  of  blue. 


26 


EXPECTANT 

AT  dusk,  within  the  land-locked  bay, 
Like  birds  that  seek  the  nest, 

Or  children  wearied  with  their  play, 
The  sloops  come  home  to  rest. 

Then  from  a  hamlet  near  the  shore 
We  watch  the  dropping  sail, 

While  floats  across  the  lonely  moor 
The  whistling  of  the  quail. 

We  strain  our  eyes  till  in  the  dark 
Yon  point  is  lost  to  view ; 

To-morrow  shall  we  greet  the  bark, 
When  wave  and  sky  are  blue  ? 

And  while  beneath  the  veil  of  night 
These  restless  waters  sleep, 

Each  vessel  burns  a  fairy  light, 
The  glow-worms  of  the  deep. 

A  brooding  mist  the  dawn  may  hide, 
The  fog-bell  sound  its  moan, 

And  spectral  schooners  softly  glide 
Into  the  gray  unknown. 
27 


Oh,  pray  that  when  we  hail  with  glee 
Their  glad  return  at  last, 

One  fatal  sign  we  may  not  see,  — 
The  flag  half  down  the  mast  I 


28 


STRICKEN 

**  DEAR  Lord,  and  must  I  fold  my  hands? 
All  through  my  life  I  've  prayed  to  thee 
That  I  might  never  idle  be ; 
Dare  I  rebel  at  thy  commands  ? 

"  O  shed  on  me  thy  healing  light ! 

For  long  my  feet  have  failed  to  tread 
The  busy  paths  where  duty  led, 
And  now  my  fingers  feel  the  blight." 

She  looks  with  sweet,  pathetic  eyes 
Upon  her  cherished  tasks,  begun 
By  other  hands,  or  left  undone ; 

Then  on  herself  with  sad  surprise. 

Not  rest  she  craves,  but  to  be  free : 
And  we  who  love  her  kneel  each  day, 
Perplexed  and  pained,  to  humbly  pray, 
"  Dear  Lord,  and  must  she  idle  be?  " 


29 


HE  GIVETH   SNOW 

PAIN  ushered  in  the  sullen  day. 

"  Oh,  cold,  gray  day  1 "  I  said, 
44 1  only  asked  one  little  ray 

Of  hope,  and  hope  is  dead." 

Like  some  great  brooding  bird  above, 
The  sky  let  fall  its  feathery  down. 
11  Take  the  dark  earth,"  she  said,  "  my  love ! 
Weave  Nature's  bridal  gown  1  " 

I  opened  wide  the  snowy  door ; 

The  soft  flakes  fluttered  round  my  head  ; 
'*  Beauty,  at  least,  lives  evermore." 
I  turned,  but  pain  had  fled. 


3° 


FRESH  from  the  Carnival's  grotesque  delight 
We  trod  thy  streets,  O  City  of  the  dead, 
The  pavements  echoing  back  our  conscious  tread. 
About  us  rose  the  homes  a  sudden  blight 

Had  cursed,  now  hopeless  as  the  fatal  sight 
Of  dread  Medusa's  face.     The  soul  had  fled, 
Leaving  its  mortal  life  a  book  outspread. 
Within  those  frescoed  walls — bare  rooms,  once 
bright 

With  children's  glee  —  what  warning  could  we  find  ? 
In  myriad  haunting  tones  the  answer  came : 

"  Let  death  move  swift  or  slow,  hold  thou  in  mind 

Thy  brothers'  needs,  nor  seek  for  earthly  fame ; 
But  let  thy  daily  living  yield  mankind 
The  priceless  record  of  a  lofty  aim." 


31 


COBWEBS 

No  longer  fairies  hold  their  sway ; 

Yet  tiny  hammocks  swing 
From  waving  summer  boughs  to-day, 

And  to  the  grasses  cling 
Soft  beaded  veils  of  woven  mist, 
Where  elves  were  wont  to  hold  their  tryst. 

The  busy  little  gnome  who  spreads 

Unseen  these  dainty  things 
Can  mingle  with  his  fragile  threads 

No  hope  of  future  wings,  — 
Unlike  the  rival  worm  who  spins 
His  silken  shroud  and  heaven  wins. 

Nature  has  weavers  who  possess 

Beauty  and  power  of  song. 
The  spider  in  his  humble  dress 

Is  silent  under  wrong, 
And  with  his  webs  the  vireos  dare 
To  make  their  pendent  nests  more  fair ; 

Yet  still  undaunted  by  his  fate 

He  hangs  this  shimmering  lace 
32 


On  awkward  wall  or  clumsy  gate 

With  matchless  skill  and  grace ; 
But  ceaseless  foes  his  fabrics  rend,  — 
Titania's  weaver  has  no  friend. 


33 


GIFTS 

A  FLAWLESS  pearl,  snatched  from  an  ocean  cave, 

Remote  from  light  or  air, 
And  by  the  mad  caress  of  stormy  wave 

Made  but  more  pure  and  fair ; 

A  diamond,  wrested  from  earth's  hidden  zone, 

To  whose  recesses  deep 
It  clung,  and  bravely  flashed  a  light  that  shone 

Where  dusky  shadows  creep  ; 

A  sapphire,  in  whose  heart  the  tender  rays 

Of  summer  skies  had  met ; 
A  ruby,  glowing  with  the  ardent  blaze 

Of  suns  that  never  set,  — 

These  priceless  jewels  shone,  one  happy  day, 

On  my  bewildered  sight ; 
"  We  bring  from  earth,  sea,  sky,"  they  seemed  to  say, 

"  Love's  richness  and  delight." 

"For  me?"  I  trembling  cried.    "Thou  need'st  not 

dread," 

Sang  heavenly  voices  sweet ; 
And  unseen  hands  placed  on  my  lowly  head 
This  crown,  for  angels  meet. 
34 


THE  WHITE  DUNE 

A  GHOSTLY  beacon  in  its  awful  white, 

The  lonely  beach  slopes  down  to  meet  the  sea, 

And  spreads  its  sand,  like  snow,  on  rock  and  lea. 

The  pines  that  once  relieved  the  dazzled  sight, 
That  sheltered  farms  and  stayed  the  northern  flight 

Of  singing  birds,  are  gone.     Each  sturdy  tree 

A  victim  fell  to  thoughtless  man's  decree ; 

The  winds  avenged  the  wrong  in  one  wild  night. 
Now,  on  this  waste  the  tides  of  autumn  toss 

Their  ripened  sheaves  of  wondrous  form  and  hue. 

The  shore  is  brilliant  with  the  tinted  moss 
Garnered  in  darkness  by  those  waters  blue. 

A  vestal  pale,  the  white  dune  bears  her  cross 

Till  this,  the  yearly  carnival,  is  due. 


35 


TRANSFORMATION 

WHAT  has  befallen  the  wayward  girl 

With  her  ripples  of  laughter,  her  gushes  of  song? 
Her  varying  moods,  like  the  summer  clouds 

That  tease  the  day  as  they  float  along? 

The  saucy  gleam  in  her  hazel  eyes  — 

Like  the  warning  light  on  a  dangerous  shore  — 

Has  changed  to  the  steadfast  glow  of  a  star, 
Uplifting  and  blessing  forevermore. 

The  soul  looks  out  of  her  woman's  face ; 

That  fairy  with  rainbow  wings  has  flown : 
For  silently  weaving  his  mystic  spell, 

An  enchanter,  called  Love,  has  claimed  his  own ! 


CONQUERED 

ONE  day  he  said :  "  I  long  to  go 

Where  green  fields  slope  to  meet  the  tide, 

And  sweet  wild  roses  bud  and  blow 
Upon  the  cold  rock's  side ; 

"  Where  swallows  nest  in  fragrant  barns, 

With  sea-winds  blowing  through  the  hay, 
And  hills  behind,  with  shadowy  tarns, 
Look  down  upon  the  bay." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  she  sighed,  "  I  know  it  all,  — 

The  wooded  isles,  the  curving  shore, 
The  plashing  waves,  the  sea-bird's  call, 
Sounds  I  shall  hear  no  more  !  " 

He  brought  pink  clovers,  and  a  sheaf 
Of  daisies  in  their  gold  and  white, 

Sweet-fern,  blue  harebells,  bayberry  leaf ; 
She  grasped  them  with  delight. 

4 '  From  breezy  pastures  they  have  strayed ; 
They  bring  me  whiffs  of  cool  salt  air ; 
Before  these  spicy  blossoms  fade, 
Love,  you  must  take  me  there ! " 
37 


BETRAYAL 

OUT  of  the  chilling  rain  and  fog 

That  hid  the  mountain  from  our  sight, 

A  dusky  cloud  came  floating  down 
At  early  dawn  of  light. 

The  cloud  dropped  softly  to  the  lake 
Amid  a  sound  of  whirring  wings, 

And  spread  into  a  graceful  line 
A  host  of  living  things. 

We  hailed  this  burst  of  joyous  life, 

The  sunless  day  seemed  dark  no  more ; 

When  suddenly  a  shot  rang  out 
And  echoed  round  the  shore. 

The  water-fowl  were  nature's  guests, 
But  they  were  doomed  ;  and  all  that  day 

The  shots  pealed  forth  and  on  the  waves 
The  dead  and  dying  lay. 

At  last  into  the  brooding  mist, 
There  vanished,  softly  as  it  came, 

A  broken  flock,  with  plumage  torn, 
After  that  day  of  shame. 
38 


ABSENT 

SHE  never  said,  "  Lost  is  my  dearest  one ;  " 

The  phrase  "not  living"  would  have  hushed  her 

song 

Of  faith.     How  could  his  silent  voyage  seem  long 
When  she,  whose  joyless  days  had  now  begun, 

Said  ' '  absent "  with  a  smile  which  meant  the  sun 
Was  only  dimmed  by  clouds?     Then,  if  a  throng 
Of  painful  thoughts  pressed  hard,  it  made  her  strong 
To  think  how  he  would  wish  life's  duties  done. 

In  her  sweet  face,  where  grief  had  left  its  seam, 
A  tender  gladness  dawned,  as  years  took  flight, 
And  brought  the  meeting  near.    Nor  did  she  dream 

That  from  her  trusting  heart  there  shone  a  light 
For  eyes  too  weak  to  bear  the  larger  gleam 
That  led  her  on,  as  stars  redeem  the  night. 


39 


ROCKY   MOUNTAIN  JACKS 

THROUGH  the  little  mining  town, 
Snow-capped  mountains  looking  down, 

Roam  the  idle  Jacks ; 
Sniffing  at  the  parson's  door, 
Where  a  hungry  beast  is  sure 

To  get  the  thing  he  lacks. 

Over  rocks,  and  through  the  pines 
Where  the  yellow  aspen  shines, 

Wind  the  narrow  trails 
Worn  by  patient  donkey  feet, 
Climbing  on  through  frost  and  heat, 

Fogs,  or  biting  gales. 

Till  the  sturdy,  toiling  Jacks, 
Bearing  coal  and  food  in  sacks, 

Reach  the  mining  camp. 
But  the  women  down  below 
When  the  friendly  burros  go 

Miss  their  aimless  tramp. 

40 


Jingle  go  the  donkey  bells  ! 
Each  returning  satchel  swells 

With  gold  and  silver  ore. 
Glad  we  are  to  see  them  back, 
Every  stupid,  braying  Jack  — 

The  town 's  alive  once  more ! 


BLOSSOMING 

O  LILY  bud !  thy  lovers  wait 

To  see  thy  bloom  unfold ; 
The  fragrant  petals  open  late ; 

Unveil  that  heart  of  gold  ! 

• 

The  sunbeams  my  impatience  share ; 

To  other  flowerets  hie 
Those  restless  blossoms  of  the  air 

The  bee  and  butterfly. 

Serene  and  cold,  the  lily  said  : 

"  My  tryst  is  with  the  night ; 
When  glow-worms  their  glad  radiance  shed, 
I  burst  my  fetters  white." 

And  poised  upon  her  stately  stalk, 

I  caught  the  gleam  afar : 
What  was  it  lit  the  garden  walk, 

A  lily  or  a  star  ? 


42 


IN  A  ROSE   GARDEN 

"  No  dowry  for  my  girl  have  I," 

He  said  with  stately  grace ; 
"  But  I  will  give  her,  ere  I  die,  — 

These  trophies  of  her  race. 

"  Dear  to  my  heart  is  every  one ; 

The  fairest  goes  with  you,  — 
The  rest,  bequeathed  by  sire  to  son, 
Will  bear  transplanting  too." 

He  led  him  to  a  garden  door, 

And  watched  his  rapt  surprise : 

A  wealth  of  roses  blushed  before 
The  lover's  wondering  eyes. 

They  trailed  their  richness  on  the  ground ; 

They  bloomed  upon  the  wall ; 
And  in  their  midst  his  bride  he  found, 
The  sweetest  bud  of  all. 

The  father  smiled,  and  hid  his  pain ; 

But  from  their  wedding  day 
His  broken  life  began  to  wane, 

And  swiftly  ebbed  away. 
43 


And  when  his  gentle  spirit  passed 
In  that  rose-scented  air, 

With  roses,  comrades  to  the  last, 
They  filled  his  vacant  chair. 


44 


TO  A  POET   ON   HIS   SEVENTIETH 
BIRTHDAY 

(H.  W.  L.,  FEBRUARY  27,  1877) 

THE  young  and  rosy  years,  with  footsteps  fleet, 
Whose  dreamy,  echoing  voices  still  resound, 
And  other  years,  with  mournful  cypress  crowned, 
Have  laid  their  offerings  at  thy  gracious  feet, 

And  won  thy  benediction,  poet  sweet ! 

For  in  the  darkest  seas  that  grief  can  sound, 
What  buoyant  wings  of  faith  thy  songs  have  found ! 
And  now  from  every  land  thy  lovers  meet, 

And  vie  to  heap  their  treasures  at  thy  door. 
Here  violets  with  woodland  odors  rife 
Breathe  fragrant  thoughts,  and  from  a  distant  shore 

Come  Easter  lilies,  stainless  as  thy  life, 
While  all  unite  in  one  prophetic  cry, 

"  Thy  years  may  wane,  but  thcu  canst  never  die." 


45 


WAIFS 

ALL  through  the  golden  haze 
Leaves  were  drifting  and  falling ; 

All  through  the  mellow  days 
Boughs  were  bending  and  calling 

To  their  little  castaways. 

Through  branches  almost  bare 
A  squirrel  came  frisking  and  springing. 

No  restless  birds  were  there ; 
Yet  he  was  bounding  and  swinging 

As  if  born  of  the  sky  and  air. 

But  in  the  winter  cold 
Who  will  be  loving  and  caring 

For  the  leaves,  then  withered  and  old  ; 
Or  the  sprite  with  his  tilting  and  daring, 

And  no  tender  arm  to  enfold? 

All  through  the  changeful  year 
Nature  is  finding  and  keeping 

A  home  for  her  children  dear ; 
And  the  waifs  may  go  fluttering  or  leaping 

With  never  a  shade  of  fear. 
46 


THE  STRENGTH  OF  THE  HILLS 

A  MIDNIGHT  hush  pervades  the  air, 
No  birdling  chirps,  no  leaflet  stirs ; 

Midsummer  heat  is  everywhere, 
Even  among  the  firs. 

What  far-off  sound  grows  on  the  ear  ? 

Through  wild  ravines  it  sweeps  along, 
As  if  some  swift -winged  bird  drew  near 

To  wake  the  night  with  song. 

A  rustle  fills  the  birches  tall ; 

A  sudden  coolness  fans  the  cheek : 
Monadnock's  breath  bears  life  to  all 

Beneath  his  rugged  peak. 

For  here  each  day  is  born  anew, 
A  chaste  Diana,  fresh  and  fair, 

Whose  arrows,  dipped  in  forest  dew, 
Transfix  each  worldly  care. 


47 


TAKING   LEAVE 

WHEN  the  thrush  brief  snatches  sang 

Of  his  wondrous  tune, 
And  the  woods  no  longer  rang 

With  the  joy  of  June, 
Then  we  knew  that  day  by  day 
Summer's  face  would  turn  away. 

From  the  ripened  thistles  went 

Floating  wee  balloons ; 
All  seemed  on  a  journey  bent, 

In  those  August  noons. 
But  lake  and  sky  wore  deeper  blue, 
To  show  that  Summer's  heart  was  true. 

Soon  the  birches  could  not  hold 

Back  their  yellow  leaves ; 
Royal  roads  must  shine  with  gold, 

Though  the  forest  grieves ; 
Lighting  now  their  torches  red, 
Maples  in  the  pageant  led. 

Shrillest  herald  of  the  fall, 
Piped  the  busy  jay ; 
48 


Armies,  mustering  at  his  call, 
Winged  their  silent  way ; 
Drowsy  crickets  chirped  good-by ; 
Lingered  last  one  butterfly. 

Not  unguarded  is  the  throne  : 

Chickadees  are  left, 
Pine  and  fir  trees  hold  their  own ; 

Can  we  feel  bereft  ? 
Nay,  amid  the  snow  and  frost, 
Summer's  colors  are  not  lost. 


49 


IN  THE  DARK 

THE  fields  were  silent,  and  the  woodland  drear, 
The  moon  had  set,  and  clouds  hid  all  the  stars ; 

And  blindly,  when  a  footfall  met  my  ear, 
I  reached  across  the  bars. 

And  swift  as  thought  this  hand  was  clasped  in  thine, 
Though  darkness  hung  around  us  and  above ; 

Not  guided  by  uncertain  fate  to  mine, 
But  by  the  law  of  love. 

I  know  not  which  of  us  may  first  go  hence 
And  leave  the  other  to  be  brave  alone, 

Unable  to  dispel  the  shadows  dense 
That  veil  the  life  unknown ; 

But  if  I  linger  last,  and  stretch  once  more 
A  longing  hand,  when  fades  this  earthly  day, 

Again  it  will  be  grasped  by  thine,  before 
My  steps  can  lose  the  way. 


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